


Scattering Grief: Explicit Companion

by thievinghippo



Series: Sonya Shepard [13]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:25:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thievinghippo/pseuds/thievinghippo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Explicit scenes from <i>Scattering Grief</i>.  Prior reading of the story is not required, but certainly encouraged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ten of Cups, Upright

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is a continuation of Chapter Six of _Scattering Grief_. Garrus has left the hospital and has moved into Shepard' prefab, now _their_ prefab. They've decided to take a moment to welcome each other home.

~~~~~

 **The Ten of Cups, _Upright_** _-_ Good reputation and honor. True friendship.  A peaceful and secure environment.

~~~~~

“Work later?”

“Agreed,” Shepard said.

Garrus leaned forward and pressed his mouth plates to her lips. As their tongues glided against each other, he felt Shepard slide her hands up from his waist to his neck. She started drawing patterns lightly with her fingernails.

He had asked her teasingly once if she was branding him with anything in particular when she touched his neck. Shepard’s answer had surprised him. She had told him she wrote a story on his hide when she used her nails. Sometimes she would draw symbols, sometimes words, all depending on her mood. There were so many ways she told the same basic tale: how he and she became _we._

There was far too much room between the two of them. Garrus reached out to pull her closer and felt the cut of her hip bone through her trousers, something he could never feel before.

He knew there were differences in her body now - her face, her hair - but the shape of her hip under his palms made it _real._ How many hours had he spent during the war memorizing every texture, every hidden spot? Shepard had liked to joke he was was calibrating her body and in a way it was true.

He understood her body’s secrets almost better than she did. Garrus learned not to touch the scar on her left thigh - the one from Azuke - as she would only turn her head away and rapidly blink back tears. Dipping his tongue in her belly button was rationed for when she was happy and already laughing, since the move made her giggle wildly. And the absolute fastest way to open her up was to coat his talon in her wetness and gently push into her ass, just to the first knuckle. Any further without telling her resulted in a slap on the wrist.

Her body had changed, and possibly the secrets that went along with it, leaving Garrus with the desperate need to feel her bare skin under his palms. It was worse than the itch he had always felt in his skull when he learned that Adams or Tali changed the power schematics, throwing off his numbers.

He needed to learn her new topography and document the changes. But it would be impossible to grasp all her new secrets in one night. This would take time. And for once - even standing in the shadow of a new possible threat - they had time. Garrus could linger.

And he had every intention on doing so.

Shepard traced the outline of his mouth plates with her tongue. No change there; her tongue was just as smooth, just as flat and wide as before. He pressed his mouth plates against the inside of her wrist; the thin blue veins more defined than ever thanks to the weight she had lost.

They walked towards the bed, with its thin mattress, battered blanket and pillows made of plastic. The bed was smaller than the one they shared on the Normandy, with his side against the wall. Garrus never liked sleeping against a wall, reminded him far too much of cramped sleeping pods. But he stopped that line of thought, deciding there were far more important things to think about.

Such as how quickly he could get Shepard out of those clothes.

Garrus sat down at the edge of the bed, deciding he already didn’t mind the mattress. While it didn’t look comfortable at the moment, he knew the bed would be the place where he could bury himself in Shepard. Where he could be _home._  

Shepard knelt down, loosening the ties of her boots. “I look different,” she said as she took off her socks and boots. Another change. A ragged scar at her ankle; he’d bet credits that she had surgery on that foot.

“You’re gorgeous, Shepard,” Garrus said, letting his sub-vocals thrum low with desire. And it was true. Even with this new skin and new body, she was still a beautiful sight.

“Thank you,” she said, her smile sad. “I meant my body. It’s…it’s not pretty, Garrus.”

He slowly took off his gloves, trying to figure out how best to respond. Most of the time, Shepard seemed to be quite comfortable with her body. But occasionally she would have these strange moments of doubt, when she’d want to make love with the lights completely off or refuse to take off her shirt.

Garrus had never understood. He adored her body, which he told her often. He loved seeing how they moved together; the look of her skin next to his scales and hide. But he was nothing if not creative. When they had sex in the dark, without even the lights from the fish tank, Garrus would let his other senses take over and see her in other ways.

“Doesn’t matter,” Garrus said, pulling Shepard flush against him. She eagerly reached for his hands. He held back a smirk; she always liked to touch his hands right after his gloves came off. Every single time. When he had asked about it, Shepard simply shrugged and said the gloves trapped heat, making his hands warmer than usual. He liked to joke that she simply couldn’t wait to have his bare hands on her skin. “Shepard, I’m just as nervous as you.”

Which was true. He was still too thin and even with the medicine and nutrition he had been given, Garrus knew his stamina wouldn’t be close to what it should be. Hopefully Shepard wouldn’t mind doing most of the work until he regained some strength. He’d make it up to her.

Shepard’s face softened as she stroked his fringe. “Don’t be-“

“Exactly,” Garrus said, letting his mandibles flare in a grin.

She kissed him hard on the mouth plates. “You think you’re so smart,” Shepard said with a laugh. He licked a bead of sweat off of her neck and lingered, feeling his heart beat in her pulse. It was a heady feeling, making her laugh.

“Flashes, occasionally,” Garrus said, letting his talons caress the left side of her neck. Shepard tilted her head to give him greater access. Her skin hadn’t scarred like his, but the color of this side of her neck was lighter than before. His voice came out in a whisper. “How badly were you burned?”

Shepard rolled up her left sleeve. There, on the soft skin under her forearm, the skin was scarred like his. She must have tried to protect her face with her arm. “Bad,” she said finally.

He pulled her in close again, and dragged his tongue down her neck. “Nerve damage?”

Her own hands had moved back to his neck, drawing lazy circles. “A bit,” she admitted. “Still feels nice though.”

“Good,” Garrus said, resting his hands on her rear. Bringing his mouth plates to her ear and letting his sub-vocals thrum with desire deep from his chest, Garrus whispered, “Take off your clothes. Slowly.”

Shepard shivered in his arms before taking a few steps back. Garrus didn’t imagine the extra sway in her hips. She undid the top button of her uniform, then the second. Sliding her hands into the waistband of her trousers, Shepard untucked her shirt. Another button, then another. Just when Garrus was beginning to regret telling her to take her time, Shepard dropped her uniform shirt to the ground.

They had discussed Shepard’s choice of armor more than once during the war. Garrus had advocated a use of a hard suit, like she wore when they fought the Collectors. Shepard had preferred the Alliance issued Ajax Armor, saying the lightweight armor increased her mobility and response time. But the armor didn’’t protect her from where it must have torn, exposing her skin to debris and glass and who knows what else. Small scars dotted her torso, while on her shoulders there were bright pink swatches of skin.

Crooking a talon, he silently told her to walk back to him. She did, though there was no sway in her hips this time. Once she stood between his legs, Shepard opened her mouth to speak, the look on her face already apologizing. He ended the look quickly by kissing her roughly, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She responded instantly, her arms around his neck, her elbows sliding against the sensitive skin inside his cowl.

Garrus didn’t break the kiss until he absolutely had to take a breath. Shepard looked at him, a small smile on her lips and he decided that was a victory. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” he said, letting his sub-vocals rumble.

He somehow managed to keep the grin off his face as Shepard squeezed her thighs together. Reaching behind her, she made quick work of her bra, throwing it to the side. Garrus placed both hands right beneath her breasts, where he could now see the outline of her ribs, something he never could before. Slowly, letting his talons brush each rib, he slid his hands down to her waist.

“Those marks on your shoulders-”

“Harness on my armor melted into my skin,” she said softly, placing her hands on his.

“Does they hurt at all?” Garrus asked, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t inadvertently cause her pain. She shook her head in response.

His hands went to her shoulders, thumbs gliding over the new pink skin. It was soft, softer than even her inner thighs. He leaned forward, nuzzling the good side of her neck. Shepard let out a moan as his tongue ran over her shoulder, licking the cool skin. Another secret discovered.

Her breasts had also been dotted with scars. Taking the tips of his talons, Garrus drew slow lines, connecting the scars. When Shepard closed her eyes tightly as he cupped the side of her breasts, pinching then rolling her nipples, he allowed himself a small smile. She wasn’t the only one who knew how to tell a story with her fingers.

A moment passed before Garrus realized Shepard was waiting for him to tell her what to do. He felt his cock twitch beneath his plates. There were times in the past where Garrus had demanded control when they fucked. When he would relish the power he had over Shepard when she did exactly what he wanted.

This was different. This was Shepard _offering_ him control. He heard her doubts and knew she simply wanted to not think or worry about them anymore. She was handing him the broken pieces of her body, taking his in return and trusting that together, they could make each other whole.

His breath became shallow as he continued to stroke her nipples. He had never wanted her more than he did right now and his plates seemed determined not to spread. He must be more tired than he thought.

“You still have clothes on, Shepard,” Garrus said, making sure to enunciate each work. He decided to give her one concession and took off his visor. Shepard took the opportunity to place her cheek against his, letting her breasts press against his keel bone. He tapped her ass lightly. “You disobeying my order?”

Shepard shook her head, smiling sweetly. She shimmed out of her trousers, leaving her only in her underwear. There were more of those small scars where her armor hadn’t protected her. Two bright pink rings circled her thighs, even marring the delicate skin of her inner thighs.

Her fingers played with the elastic waist band of her underwear. “Take them off,” Garrus told her. As she obeyed, Garrus felt his neck heating up. He needed to get out of these clothes; the collar of his shirt seemed to restrict the air he breathed.

He inhaled quickly at the sight of her cunt for the first time in four months. Seeing her naked, weight balancing on one foot, slowly running her hands up and down her torso… Garrus hadn’t quite realized how starved for her touch he had become during the last four months, for the warmth of her body against his. He hadn’t even touched himself over the last two months, since he and Tali had to truly start rationing, not wanting to expend the energy when he only wanted _Shepard._

Not willing to wait any longer, Garrus stood up. “Help me undress,” he asked, his sub-vocals slightly higher in pitch. Shepard was next to him in two steps, the slight smile on her face telling him she recognized the pleading tone. Feeling her hands on his tunic and not his hide was torture.

The tunic was removed quickly - they had a well practiced routine - and Shepard stepped back, her eyes curious. Garrus tried to be patient as her hands lingered on his shoulders, feeling the scales that weren’t quite flat, thanks to his weight loss.

And then Shepard sank to her knees in front of him, her hands not leaving his body as they slid down his chest and settled at his waist. Her fingers were languid, and Garrus tried not to think that the last time she stroked his naked waist - on the way to Earth, when they had fucked desperately in her cabin, and he silently begged the Spirits not to let this be the last time he touched her - there had been a wall of solid muscle instead of simply hide.

As Shepard slowly pulled down this trousers, exposing his hip bones, Garrus needed to open his mouth to breath. He needed more oxygen, more of her hands on his waist and hips, just _more._ She ran her thumb along the faint scar line from his surgery.  “Your hip’s okay?” she asked.

He nodded, running his talons through her hair. She continued to remove his trousers, her hands branding him as they slid down his legs. Shepard paid extra attention to the double joints of his ankles, rubbing them slightly. The pressure felt so good Garrus had to pull her hair a bit to keep his balance. Her hands gripped his ankles and a soft moan came out of her mouth. Looking up at him, Shepard smiled, her pupils dilated. “You can do that again, if you want,” she said, sounding breathless.

Garrus nodded, filing that away for later. He certainly wasn’t going to give her more now; there’d be no fun in that.

Shepard ran her finger down the length of his groin plates.  He could see the curious expression on her face; most of the time, by the time they were both naked, his cock would be hard and out of its sheath, slick and hot.  “I’m tired, Shepard, that’s all,” he said.  The last thing he wanted was for her to think this was in response to her body.

She let out a soft laugh. “You do know there are other ways I can tell you’re turned on besides your cock, right?” she said with a smirk. But before he had a chance to answer, Shepard leaned forward and licked the entire seam in one stroke. Still nothing. Garrus let out an annoyed sigh and went to touch himself to try to move things along. She slapped his hands away. “I thought you said the worst thing you can do when your plates won’t open is get frustrated?”

“When did I tell you that?” Garrus asked, brow furrowed.

“After Tuchanka,” Shepard said. She licked her fingers and went back to stroking his plates. “You had a half shot of ryncol.””

“I drank ryncol? That stupid of me,” Garrus said, huffing a laugh.  He remembered the night, but not any ryncol.  Wrex had hosted a feast the night the genophage had been cured.  He and Shepard both had a bit too much to drink that night.  They hadn’t even made it back to the cabin, instead sneaking into the back-up shuttle where they both continually shushed each other, worried that someone might hear them in the empty cargo bay.

Shepard took his hands and stood up.  She teased his neck with one hand and with the other, guided his hand to her cunt.

Spirits, she was so wet already. She gasped at the contact, bucking her hips ever so slightly into his hand. He took his time and explored a bit, but not enough to get her completely worked up. Chuckling, Garrus raised his hand and offered his talon to Shepard. Not taking her eyes off his face, Shepard licked his talon clean.

The sight was finally enough to spread his plates, though Garrus could tell he wasn’t hard yet. Shepard sat at the edge of the bed and patted the space next to her. “On your stomach?”” she asked.

He complied, grabbing a pillow and crawling into bed. Straddling his thighs, Shepard’s fingertips just brushed his waist. With a slight groan, Garrus closed his eyes. He started to hum as Shepard massaged the tired muscles. “Tell me if I hurt your back at all,” she said, leaning forward, letting her breasts push up against his carapace.

She was relentless, digging her knuckles into the hide at his waist, then teasing with just the lightest of touches. “Fuck,” he moaned as she hit one particularly tender spot.

“Doing okay?” Shepard asked, clearly enjoying just how okay Garrus was at the moment. He nodded, not able to do much more than that at the moment. His waist felt boneless. She leaned against him again. “Turn around, please.”

Shepard moved to the side and started piling some pillows onto the bed. Generally, having sex on his back was not his favorite, though he knew Shepard enjoyed the position. But realistically, any other position would be just a bit too energy consuming for him. If this wasn’t motivation to work to get his stamina back, he didn’t know what was.

Once he was laying back, Garrus looked down at his sheath. His plates were fully spread, but his cock hadn’t slid out yet. He was hard, the pleasant feeling of fullness was there, he just wasn’t out yet. Shepard settled herself between his legs, wiggling back a bit so she could lay on her stomach. Their eyes met as she trailed her hands down from his waist to his sheath. With a grin, she lowered her head and licked the slit of his sheath from top to bottom.

Garrus had almost forgotten how damn _good_ this felt, her mouth slightly cool against the heat from his groin. He shifted slightly as he felt her tongue swirl around the tip of his cock, even as it was still in his sheath.  When Shepard dragged her front teeth down the length of his sheath, Garrus gasped, and felt his cock slid out completely.  His body sighed in relief at the cool air brushing his cock, but he quickly sensed the tautness there, a string that could snap any second, leaving Garrus to wonder just how long he’d be able to last.

Shepard started to roll over his leg to lay on her side, but Garrus held out his hand. “Shepard, use your mouth and I will come in about two seconds,” he told her, ignoring the reedy sound of his sub-vocals, which spoke of embarrassment.

“Ah,” Shepard said, wrapping her fingers around his length. She sat up, not letting go of his cock, which twitched beneath her hands.

Garrus let his eyes roam her body as she positioned herself over him. The new scars, the new skin, every inch told him a story: how she survived. His sub-vocals lowered, and Shepard grinned, recognizing the vulgar subtext.  She had learned to interpret the sub-vocals he used during sex much like she had the one he used in day to day operations: by trial and error.  In the beginning, they would both laugh when she’d make a completely wrong guess, but now all he had to do was let out the lightest of purrs and Shepard knew exactly what he was saying.

Her cunt was _right there_ , right above his cock. She guided his cock around the lips of her cunt, her clit, then the opening. “Now you’re just being a tease, Shepard,” Garrus said with a moan, thrusting his hips lightly, wanting his cock to come in contact with something, anything. Shepard gripped him again and slowly lowered herself onto his cock.  He let out a moan as the slickness of her cunt surrounded him.  And she was tight, _so damn tight._ Four months.  Never again.

Shepard’s breath hitched, and she had to reach forward to grab his collar to keep her balance.  She sank lower, and took him in completely to the hilt.  She paused, looking down at him.  After a moment, she still hadn’t moved and Garrus closed his eyes, reveling in heat and wetness of her cunt.  And then he realized.

It was quiet.

There was no fish tank gurgling, no buzz of computers, or the quiet sound of the drive core that he associated with her cabin.  Even in her apartment on the Citadel, there was always noise: the waterfall, skycars zooming past the windows and loud pedestrians on the street.  There weren’t fifty-four other crew members all wanting some of Shepard’s time and attention or the knowledge that she had given most of the crew access to her apartment, where they could walk in at any time.

The only sounds were their breathing.  Maybe they weren’t ready to be rolling around on a couch like he told her once, but they were finally completely and utterly _alone._

Leaning forward, Shepard kissed him before bracing herself with his carapace.  As he entwined his fingers with hers, she started to move.

Her pace was maddeningly slow. Shepard moved as if she was committing each physical sensation to memory. Perhaps she was, Garrus thought as he reached up to stroke her nipples.  As she raised her hips, he could feel her wetness dripping down to the base of his cock.  She clenched her cunt at the peak, just around the tip of his cock and Garrus felt his veins catch on fire.

Grabbing her hips, he pulled her down so that she surrounded his cock completely.  He tapped her ass, just a hint of pressure to encourage her to move faster.  Shepard looked down at him and the heat in her eyes told him she was done taking orders.

She gripped his hands, and squeezed.  Their combined force were sure to leave marks on her hips, make a trail of small bruises.  Garrus moaned at the thought of waking up with Shepard tomorrow, seeing the marks on her hips, knowing together they had put them there.

Instead of thrusting, Shepard started grinding against him.  While he reveled in the heat of her cunt, Garrus needed more, more friction, more movement, more… _something._

He started thrusting lightly, not hard enough to upset Shepard’s balance.  She quickly responded, timing her own thrusts down to match his upward ones.  Each thrust took him deeper, where he could feel her cunt against his sheath.  Their breathing and the sound of their thrusts, wet and slick, filled the room.

The sound of her cunt caused the pressure in his cock to build.  She kept clenching around him, tightening the vice.  He needed to let go and feel release. 

“Gonna be soon, Shepard,” he said, his breath heavy.

“I don’t think I’m…”  Shepard leaned forward a bit, balancing her hands on his cowl.  Her words were strained.  “Don’t wait for me.  I need to see you come, Garrus.  _Please._ ”

It was so tempting to simply slam his head back against the pillows and let his orgasm take over. But not yet. Because as much as she wanted to see him come, he wanted the same. He wanted to see the stress leave her face as she opened her mouth to cry out in pleasure.

She continued to thrust as Garrus ground his teeth as he stilled, trying to earn a little more time before release.  Her eyes were closed tight and he had an idea.

He reached up and wove a chunk of hair through his talons.  And once she thrust down, enveloping him completely, Garrus pulled.  Hard.

A squeal escaped her lips as her eyes flew open.  “Fuck, yes,” she moaned loudly.  Her hand flew from his collar to her clit.  Watching Shepard touch herself while she grinded against him snapped the thin string that had been his control.

“Shepard,” Garrus said with a groan, feeling his orgasm take over.  He held his breath, wanting to make his climax last as long as possible.  For four months he had wondered if he would ever have this experience again, making love to Shepard.  Four months to build up hopes and worry if his memories and dreams would overshadow the reality.

But as he finished spilling into her, Garrus knew the reality was exactly what he wanted.

“Fuck,” he sighed as his orgasm ended.  His breathing was heavy, his chest heaving.  Glancing up at Shepard, he saw that the look in eyes could only be described as _hungry._ He felt absolutely drained, like heavy weights had replaced his limbs.  But he would find a burst of energy for her.

He reached out, moving Shepard’s hand and replaced her fingers with his talons.  Garrus wasted no time with gentle touches or soft caresses.  He kept the pressure insistent, wanting to see and feel her orgasm before his cock retreated back into its sheath.

She was close, so close.  The muscles in her abdomen tightened and she went still, no longer grinding against him.  Garrus let a soft hum, his sub-vocals light, speaking of devotion and trust and Shepard came undone.

Garrus had never been in a relationship for more than a few months before Shepard.  Part of him had wondered - worried, actually - that sex with one person would become routine.  He hadn’t taken the idea of love into equation.

As she orgasmed, the look on her face was familiar, the fluttering eyelids, the way her lips curled.  But even after making love a hundred and eighty-seven times, he knew with Shepard he would never be bored.

The feeling he was safe, anchored in her, when all he wanted was to protect _her_ , welled up inside.  Even with all the madness around them, refugee camps and Leviathan and the general uncertainty, Garrus had no doubt as the look of peace crossed her face that he had craved to see, they would protect each other.

Shepard collapsed beside him almost immediately once her orgasm was done.  She nestled against him, resting her hand on his stomach.  “That was…” she trailed off.

He turned to his side, resting his brow against hers, knowing how much he had missed that contented feeling after they made love, having her boneless in his arms.

“I missed you,” she said, putting her hand underneath his mandible.

“You mentioned that,” Garrus said with a weak chuckle. He brought his mouth plates to her temple. “Missed you, too.””

They lay in silence for several minutes, just running their hands lightly over each other’s body. Finally Shepard half-sat up. “We should get back to work.”” Her tone was regretful. “Would be so nice to spend the rest of the day in bed.”

“Add that to the list,” Garrus said, sitting up with next to Shepard. Someday, they’d have the time. They both stood up, Garrus pressing his brow against hers, knowing this new galaxy waited for no one.


	2. The Six of Cups, Upright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place immediately after [Chapter Sixteen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1032302/chapters/2715541) in _Scattering Grief_. Reading is not required, but certainly encouraged!

~~~~~

_**The Six of Cups,** Upright: Harmony, past associations have brought present relationships. Can also indicate new elements entering one's life, which will work through the present to create the future._

~~~~~

Around them, the prefab seemed empty, lonely almost.

After she and Garrus had made their way back from the retirement ceremony, they had been greeted by two enlisted men, waiting to pick up their gear to bring to the _Normandy._ That moment made everything feel incredibly real, her retirement, the mission, leaving Earth for the first time in six months.

As well as taking their gear, the men grabbed any extra food, water or energy reserves they had. Watching her precious energy reserves leave the prefab hit Shepard harder than she thought it would. She had been hoarding them for so long, that her stomach actually ached to see them go. Only Garrus whispering in her ear, that she wouldn’t need them on the _Normandy_ made her fists unclench.

While the prefab might be empty, it still provided much valued privacy, something that would be in short supply on the _Normandy._

Shepard bit her lip and looked up at Garrus. He leaned his head back, eyes closed, and spread his arms over the back of the sofa, apparently already anticipating her plan of attack. Sliding her hands up over his hip spurs, Shepard started massaging the hide at his waist. She loved the feel of his hide; sturdier than skin, yet so incredibly sensitive. Turians didn’t get goosebumps like humans, but just a simple touch to their bare hide could cause a vocal reaction.

Like the one Garrus had now. A quiet thrum started as Shepard worked. Garrus had taken care of her, shaving her head and now Shepard would take care of him. Give and take. They had perfected it over their two years together and quickly become something she cherished, something she hoped never to take for granted or advantage of.

Her hands slipped into the elastic band of his pajama bottoms and tugged slightly, lowering them over his hip spurs. Garrus obliged and raised his hips, giving her the room to pull down his clothes easily. She teased him as she took off his pajama bottoms, dragging her fingers along with the fabric, down the length of his thighs, to his spurs, removing one pants leg at a time.

Once she threw the clothes to the side, Shepard leaned forward, her hands moving to stroke the thin hide on the inside of his thighs, where his groin plates would settle once they spread. She used only her fingertips, deciding to keep away from his plates until Garrus became impatient, though he never minded a little teasing.

“You know, Shepard,” Garrus said, opening his eyes and sitting up a bit. He hooked a talon under her chin, lifting her head. Shepard grinned and took his middle talon into her mouth, sucking slightly. As she rolled her tongue around his talon, Garrus groaned. “Damn, I did have a coherent thought there for a moment.”

“You’ll remember,” Shepard said with a grin, nibbling on the tender hide between his talons.

“Already have,” Garrus said lazily. He picked up the omni-razor. “I feel like I haven’t finished the job yet. At least properly.”

This time Shepard was the one to moan quietly, squeezing her thighs together. “Been a while since we’ve done that,” she said, her voice low.

“Before Rannoch,” Garrus said softly as he traced her jawline with the tip of a talon. His touch was featherlight against her skin. “We’re packed and ready to go, Shepard. We’ve got time.”

“Do we have enough water?” she asked.

“I might have held a few water bottles back once you said you wanted your head shaved,” Garrus said, trying to sound innocent, but Shepard heard the hint of vulgarity. “I’ll go grab one.”

Shepard laughed and stood up, balancing herself with a hand on his knee. “Always trust you to be prepared.”

Garrus held out his hand and Shepard helped him off of the couch. The moment he stood upright, Shepard let out a moan as Garrus pulled her to him, kissing her roughly. As their tongues met, Shepard put her hands on his waist while Garrus palmed her ass with both hands. _This_ would be when Shepard missed her hair the most, during sex. Garrus could tug on her hair, just the slightest bit, and Shepard would be panting for more and damn if he didn’t like to take advantage of that fact.

Sliding her hands up over his carapace, loving the slightly uneven texture, Shepard started kneading the hide of his armpits with her knuckles. It was one of Garrus’ favorite moves, so when he stepped away with no warning, all Shepard could do was tilt her head in confusion. But then he tapped her ass and whispered in her ear, “I want you naked by the time I get back.”

Without another glance he walked past Shepard, towards the small kitchen. She grinned. The bastard knew she didn’t mind being ordered around a bit when it came to bedroom activities. As she obeyed his order, tossing off her clothes, Shepard felt her cheeks flush as the ache in her cunt intensified.

Once naked, Shepard settled herself on the sofa - positioning pillows so she half-sat, half-lay on the couch - and crossed her legs, content to watch Garrus walk around the kitchen naked. Her eyes roamed over his body, enjoying the slimness of his waist and the corded muscles of his thighs. Even his shoulders, compact, though Shepard understood how much weight had been placed on them. His body had become familiar as her own and he still made her heart race.

He turned towards her, water bottle in hand, and Shepard felt her pulse quicken a bit when she noticed his partially spread groan plates. It took only a few steps before he stood in front of her, his eyes roaming her body from head to toe.

Taking her time, Shepard slowly uncrossed her legs, then spread them wide, her fingers lightly circling her clit. Garrus inhaled loudly and Shepard gave him a sly grin when she saw the tip of his cock peak out of his sheath.

“That’s my girl,” Garrus said softly as he knelt between her legs. His hands gripped her thighs, pulling her forward to the edge of the couch. Shepard grabbed another pillow and put it behind her neck, giving her better leverage to watch Garrus work.

The first time Garrus asked to shave her cunt, Shepard had been skeptical; having been quite happy with her trimmed racing stripe. A cruel part of her brain worried that body hair weirded him out, being a foreign concept to turians. That fear cascaded into others: her waist would never be as trim as a turian female or her neck as long. But when Shepard had voiced that opinion, Garrus quickly put her doubt to rest, showing her just how much he enjoyed sleeping with a human. She didn’t think of it again.

“Ready?” Garrus asked, pouring water into the bowl left over from when he shaved her head.

Shepard looked down at her body, thinking of all the changes it had seen over the last six months. The tiny scars criss-crossing her body like constellations. The scarred rings around her thighs and shoulders. Her breasts were smaller, thanks to not regaining back all the weight she had lost. But even with these changes, she finally felt physically like she did before. She could run, shoot a pistol and deploy her drone and turret with ease.

She could make love.

“Ready,” Shepard said, biting her lower lip and waited for _the_ _look._

Without any fanfare, Garrus put a small drop of shaving cream on the pad of his talon, then carefully spread the foam over the small patch of hair above her cunt. More grey hairs than she remembered. The pressure was steady; not hard enough to arouse or light enough to tickle. She could feel warmth radiating from his palm, steadying itself on her thigh.

“Here we go,” Garrus said, dipping the razor into the bowl of water. Shepard held her breath, waiting for the moment when the razor touched her skin. She had no doubt his hands wouldn’t waiver as he worked, however there always seemed to be a touch of danger to the act. A sudden movement, an unexpected call on an omni-tool and the results could be disastrous. But the risk certainly justified the reward in Shepard’s mind.

And then she felt the razor, along with one of his hands, near her ass, and Shepard slowly let the air out of her lungs. Now that he started, Shepard could sit back and watch him work, each movement methodical and precise. He rinsed off the razor and cradled her ass with one hand, lifting her hips only so slightly, and out came _the look._

She remembered the first time she saw that look, fighting geth on Noveria. Liara had moved in close, while Shepard stayed midrange with her pistol, with Garrus sniping behind them. Just after she sent an Overload toward a Destroyer getting uncomfortably close, Garrus had barked, “Down.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Shepard dropped to the ground, trusting him completely, watching as Garrus finished off the Destroyer with one shot.

When she had looked back at him, she saw the concentration on his face, how he zeroed in on his target, as if it was the only thing in his world.

Since then, Shepard had been lucky enough to see that look directed at her several times. Didn’t matter where it happened. He could look at her like that from across the mess or on the battlefield and she’d be ready to tear off her clothes right there and then.

And now he aimed this look directly at her cunt.

His movements weren’t sexual, but Shepard saw a sensual grace all the same as he worked, finding a rhythm after just a few strokes. She couldn’t take her eyes off of his hands, one of her favorites parts of his body. And Garrus’ hands were beautiful. Shepard never quite understood why turians covered their hands all the time. Garrus tried to explain it to her once. Good manners, he said. When he was a child, turian men all wore caps, which only some favored now. Perhaps in a few decades, gloves would be out of fashion as well.

No matter, as long as when they were alone together, Garrus didn’t wear gloves, giving Shepard full access to his hands.

Neither of them spoke as he worked; Shepard content to simply watch as the hair began to disappear. He worked slowly, giving her time to think. They had been so happy in this prefab, their first real home together. Sure, they fought every so often, which couple didn’t? But every inch of this place had memories seeped into the wall from the last two months.

“I’m going to miss this place,” Shepard said softly, rubbing her palms on her thighs.

“Me, too,” Garrus said, looking up and meeting her eye. _The_ _look_ might have disappeared, but it had been replaced by a tenderness Shepard never tired of. “We should start thinking about finding a place to live after the mission.”

Garrus went back to shaving and Shepard looked up at the ceiling, trying to picture their future home. Small as neither one of them owned many possessions. Somewhere warm, so Garrus didn’t have to worry about being cold, since he hated that so much. Didn’t seem fair to ask Garrus to live on Earth when she wouldn’t want to live on Palaven, not when she’d have to wear a radiation suit to venture outdoors.

A tiny part of her brain wanted to make a list of potential planets, but it was quickly overwritten by the rest of her body, which only wanted to concentrate on the warmth of his hands as he worked, the way his thumb came so close but never quite touched her clit.

“Almost done,” Garrus said, interrupting her thoughts.

Shepard craned her neck, eager to watch Garrus finish up. Biting her lip, Shepard looked on as he shaved one of the most delicate parts of her cunt. At once, a swell of trust and love washed over her, making her wish she too had a dual tone voice box, allowing subvocals to tell him exactly how she felt at that moment.

“There,” Garrus said, placing the razor just out of arm’s reach. Shepard lifted her leg and caressed his waist with the sole of her foot. He swatted her foot away as he sat back on his haunches. Taking a peek, Shepard could see that his plates were now fully parted and his cock more than halfway out of his sheath. “How’d I do?”

Her skin looked smooth, not a single hair to be seen. Never ceased to amaze her how vulnerable she felt with her cunt completely bare, without anything to shield it from the world. She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything else at the moment.

Garrus took her hand and placed it on her belly. Understanding what he wanted at once, Shepard slid her hand down, not taking her eyes off of him. Her breath quickened as her fingers came closer to her cunt. Looking down, she saw that a few red spots had formed, razor burn no doubt. Understandable, since Shepard hadn’t even bothered trimming since before the final battle. Other than that, the skin felt smooth and inviting.

Part of her wanted to slide her hand down further, and touch her clit, just hard enough to tempt Garrus to take over. But she wanted his talons there first. Instead she started stroking the soft skin of her inner thighs, keeping her eyes right on Garrus’ cock, now fully unsheathed. Shepard could feel herself begin to truly start to wind up, like a spring coiling up. Her chest was flush and she could feel the wetness forming between her legs.

But she would wait for his touch first, even as it tormented her. They were both naked and so, so close to each other and yet not touching. She wanted his cock inside her now, so impatient to feel him pulsing inside her.

Garrus wasn’t a sniper without a reason. Without a doubt, Shepard had never met another living soul that matched the level of patience that he possessed. With a steady hand, Garrus took the towel and wiped away any extra shaving cream. Her hands curled into fists as he seemed to deliberately take his time and worse: deliberately not touch her where her body now screamed to be touched.

“Garrus,” she said, her voice pleading.

His subvocals told her he wasn’t teasing, more trying to prolong the anticipation. Garrus dragged the tips of his talons down her belly, before moving her hand. He started massaging Shepard’s inner thighs, her ass, and it felt good. So good. But not quite good enough and so the spring inside her belly tightened even more.

“Please,” Shepard said, almost at a whisper, knowing that single word almost always spurred Garrus into action.

It worked like a charm.

He leaned forward, his mandibles flicking the inside of her thighs as he plunged his tongue into her cunt. “Oh fuck,” she moaned, her body rising like the sun at his touch. She could feel _everything._ The way his mouth plates pushed up against the lips of her cunt as he delved his tongue deeper. She felt the calluses on the pad of his talons as he circled around her clit, moving ever closer but not quite touching.

Shepard’s own hands found her breasts, and she kneaded and pinched her nipples as Garrus continued to fuck her cunt with his tongue. Her breath sped up, almost matching the pace Garrus set. Damn, she loved his tongue. Rougher but so much longer and agile than a human tongue.

And then she felt his hand move and brush her clit, causing Shepard to throw back her head and try not to howl. Instead, she let out a gasp and put more pressure on her nipples, making circles with her thumbs that always wound her up tighter. As she tried to take a breath, Shepard listened to Garrus’ subvocals. They were _filthy,_ low and loud, filling up every pore of her body. The thrum echoed deep through his tongue straight into her cunt.

A ghost of an orgasm started to crescendo. “Gonna come soon,” she panted.

He broke rhythm slightly and Shepard could feel him searching, reaching, while one hand kept a steady pressure on her clit. The other hand slid under her ass, causing Shepard to shut her eyes tight. When they had started sleeping together, it hadn’t taken him long to learn her body’s secrets - she gave them up willingly enough - and this particular one had become a favorite for both of them. She knew exactly what he was about to do; Garrus had done this exact move countless times before. Yet Shepard bit the inside of her cheek and closed her eyes tight, feeling her body preparing, ready to be let loose.

His talon only nudged her asshole, but the light pressure, combined with his tongue finding that spot - _that spot_ \- deep inside her, caused Shepard to unfurl, pleasure overwhelming her senses. She moaned out Garrus’ name, probably louder than she should, but Shepard didn’t care how thin the walls were. Let her neighbors know that Garrus Vakarian knew how to fuck.

As she started to come down by degrees, Shepard looked down and saw that Garrus had one hand curled tightly around his cock. If she wanted, Garrus would let her rest a bit before they looked after his needs. But that’s that not what she wanted. As relaxed and boneless as she felt right now, that’s exactly what she wanted for Garrus.

“I want you inside me, Garrus,” she whispered, her voice slightly hoarse from her orgasm.

He looked up at once and said roughly, “You ready?”

Shepard nodded while Garrus unfolded himself and sat up straight, giving Shepard the chance to rest her thighs on his hip spurs. She’d probably regret it tomorrow; chafing sadly was a real concern at times. But right now, she needed the support and ignored the slight discomfort as his spur rubbed against her skin.

She thought perhaps he would go slow, tease her a bit, but Garrus apparently had a different plan. With a quick snap of his hips, he met no resistance - she was so damn wet - as he started to move. Once he grabbed her waist, the pace he set was demanding. It took Shepard a moment to catch up; Garrus seemed to be fucking her with every ounce of concentration he had. But then they found a rhythm, Shepard pushing her hips down as he thrust up.

Her breasts bounced with every thrust; she made a move to hold them down, but decided she’d much rather touch Garrus instead. So she put her hands on top of his, trying to catch his eye. No luck was to be had, though, as Garrus stared straight down, watching his cock slide in and out of her cunt.

Straining her neck a bit, Shepard saw what he saw, how his cock - thicker than a human’s, but not quite as long - slid out, leaving the slightly pointed head inside her. And then with all the force of his hips, plunged his cock in deep, stretching her out, burying himself to the hilt, so not even an inch could be seen as his sheath brushed the lips of her cunt. Really, the more Shepard watched, the more beautiful it seemed. The way the blue of his cock disappeared into the pink of her cunt, the way her wetness seemed to cling to them both.

Shepard closed her eyes, and gave herself permission to stop thinking of anything other than the way Garrus made her feel. She knew they fucked a lot, but it gave them both a chance to shut out the galaxy for a bit. And sometimes that feeling - the one she had now as he pulsed inside her and she clenched around him - letting them think they were the only two people in the galaxy, was the only tether she had to not becoming hopelessly overwhelmed.

So she kept her eyes shut and listened. His breathing was ragged, his subvocals vulgar. The sounds they made together, wet and slick, as they fucked threatened to push Shepard over the edge again. She loved that sound, especially when it was loud like this, when she was so wet they both had to work to keep him inside her.

Though sometimes, it didn’t work. Shepard opened her eyes as their rhythm faltered and Garrus pulled out completely. At once, his hand left her waist and gripped his cock, trying to guide it back into her cunt. His subvocals turned to embarrassment as he pinched his mandibles tight against his face. Shepard recognized the look as he tried to hold back his orgasm.

Garrus pushed his hips forward, but instead of entering her, the head of his cock slid up against the smooth lips of her cunt, brushing her clit. The moment he did, his subvocals changed again, back to sexual ones, and Shepard understood he couldn’t hold off his climax any longer.

He so rarely lost control like this. She wanted to take full advantage. If Garrus wasn’t able to finish inside her, Shepard wanted to _watch._ So she lifted her thighs - ignoring the way her skin protested - and wrapped her legs around his waist, not letting him escape. Normally Shepard loved watching his face when he came, seeing the tension drain away, knowing it was her that helped make that happen. But today, Shepard only had eyes on his cock.

She reached for him, moving his hand out of the way as she gave him one hard stroke. Inhaling sharply, Garrus held his breath as his orgasm started. Shearpd pumped his cock, reveling as his come covered her hand, her belly, her cunt. The idea what he couldn’t even finish inside her, that he reached a point where he had come and come now, thrilled her to no end.

His subvocals changed back to embarrassment now, that he had finished. Shuddering, Garrus leaned forward, resting his hands on the couch as he tried to catch his breath. “Can’t believe I did that,” he said, closing his eyes tight.

Shepard released her hold, placing her feet on the floor as she let go of his cock. She couldn’t hide the smile on her face if she tried. So she didn’t. “Garrus,” Shepard said softly, hearing the tenderness in her voice.

His eyes opened at once and then grew wide as Shepard took her hand and ran a finger through the come gleaning on her belly. Knowing she had Garrus’ complete attention, Shepard slowly licked her finger clean, tasting the slightly sweet and salty taste of his come.

He let out a groan at the sight as he rested his upper body against hers, making no notice of the come still on her belly. It would be all over his waist now; they’d both need a sponge bath after this.

Shepard felt her eyes closing as Garrus nuzzled her neck. Neither one of them could be very comfortable at the moment in this position, but Shepard had absolutely no desire to move. Not when one of his mandibles fluttered against her shoulder as the warmth radiating from his body enveloped her. And certainly not when Shepard started stroking his neck languidly and Garrus began to purr. Well, thrum. But this thrum, high in pitch and light in tone - sounding so close to a feline’s purr she called it that - Shepard had only heard a few times.

The last time she heard this thrum had been the night of her party on the Citadel. And before that, the first time she heard the thrum was when he held her in his arms after they had role-played Archangel and Alison Gunn. Shepard simply listened as Garrus told her in the secondary language of turians, he was completely content and at peace. She couldn’t think of anything that made her happier in the galaxy than knowing Garrus was capable of those sounds, that he occasionally felt that way at all.

“Me, too, Garrus,” Shepard whispered, kissing his brow. It didn’t matter that tomorrow they would be on Omega and chasing down an enemy that frankly scared her more than the Reapers. It didn’t matter that the galaxy might not even have the resources to fight another war, if it came to that. Right now, all that mattered was that she was home and in Garrus’ arms. Right now, that was enough. “Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [theherocomplex](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theherocomplex/pseuds/theherocomplex) for her beta work!

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [theherocomplex](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theherocomplex/pseuds/theherocomplex) for her beta work!


End file.
